The Omega Project
by Fedora Kid
Summary: The sequel to Operation: The Third Day. Two and a half years later, Sly thought it was all over. But he couldn't possibly have been more wrong in his entire life.
1. Prologue I

**Disclaimer: Fedora Kid doesn't own any of the characters or elements relating to Sly Cooper. Those rights belong solely to its respective creators and distributors: Sucker Punch Productions and Sony Computer Entertainment of America. However, all original characters in this story were created and are owned by Fedora Kid.**

Prologue I

_From the archives of the French branch of the International Police, headquarters located in Paris, France. _

_Incident Report, File #8587: Disappearance of Cooper, Sly. Inspector._

_On Monday, the 6__th__ of June, 2005, at approximately 22:30, Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox, spouse of Inspector Sly Cooper, was summoned to remove an unidentified object from the pinnacle of the Eiffel Tower, appearing to be some sort of body containment bag. Upon reaching the top, an unidentified suspect exited the bag and murdered her, with the use of a large steak knife. The suspect then dropped the corpse of Inspector Fox to the ground below, along with the bag, which was later found to contain the corpse of Constable John Winthorp, as well as the murder weapon. The suspect then fled the scene of the crime in Inspector Fox's helicopter._

_In the days following the incident, her spouse, Inspector Cooper, was especially despondent. Four days after the incident, Friday, the 10__th__ of June, 2005, Inspector Cooper was discovered examining the murder weapon alone and without the assistance of a professional forensic scientist. The day after, Saturday, the 11__th__ of June, 2005, Inspector Cooper requested a leave of absence of 120 hours, which was granted. Two fellow officers were subsequently assigned to a surveillance mission, to pursue Inspector Cooper and record his every move and destination along the way: Braskel, Eugene. Captain. Head of the Homicide Division. Whitman, Glen. Lieutenant._

_During the mission, Captain Braskel and Lieutenant Whitman were instructed to give a status report every 24 hours. However, only one such report came in. At 5:30, on Saturday, the 11__th__ of June, 2005, Inspector Cooper departed on a flight from Paris to the John F. Kennedy International Airport in New York City, New York, the United States of America. From there, he subsequently boarded another flight from the John F. Kennedy International Airport to the Los Angeles International Airport in Los Angeles, California, at approximately 20:00. After spending an estimated two and a half hours in Los Angeles, Inspector Cooper boarded a ship from a small harbor in Los Angeles. The last known status of Captain Braskel, Lieutenant Whitman, and Inspector Cooper was that the vessel was en route for Russia._

_However, no further status reports were ever given, and no word from either Captain Braskel or Lieutenant Whitman had ever come through. After thorough searching of records of airline tickets, ferry tickets, and an automobile rental in Aldan, Russia, International Police forces were able to finally discover the fate of Captain Braskel and Lieutenant Whitman. On a long, desolate mountain road in Eastern Russia, the wreckage of the stolen helicopter of Inspector Fox was found, long-burned and having apparently impacted into the cliff wall. Inside the wreckage, two charred corpses were found. Both were barely recognizable, but were eventually successfully identified by DNA tests as the remains of Captain Braskel and Lieutenant Whitman. On the road leading up to the crash site, there were numerous bullets, bullet casings, shells, and scorch marks littering the road, as well as a discarded weapon – an Uzi 9 millimeter – preceding the wreck site. This evidence strongly implied that an intense gunfight had taken place prior to the helicopter's crash. There was also the testimony of a rental car driver who had apparently been hired by Captain Braskel and Lieutenant Whitman when both learned that the rough mountain road would not be enough for their vehicle from the International Police. While clearly delirious and rambling, he briefly mentioned a "mountainous man" who had attacked them. However, the man was well-known in the area for being heavily intoxicated regularly, and had also consumed several alcoholic beverages the day he claimed the incident had happened. Additionally, a blood stain was discovered on the dashboard of the vehicle in front of the passenger seat, with the blood later being identified as that of Lietuenant Whitman. Thus, the story presented by the sole witness was brought into question, and when the interrogating officers began to imply their suspicions that he was somehow responsible, he panicked and fled, violently resisting arrest as the two officers finally caught him. He struck one officer and managed to break free of their grip, fleeing again. When the remaining officer attempted to use a stun gun on the fleeing suspect, the electric shock resulted in a heart attack that killed the man. Thus, the exact fate of Captain Braskel and Lieutenant Whitman was left an enigma. _

_The International Police forces continued further down the road that Captain Braskel and Lieutenant Whitman had been driving on, and discovered that it led to the site of the Krak-Karov Volcano, which was famous for being the location and hideout of the leader of a group of notorious criminals previously known as "The Fiendish Five:" Clockwerk (see Suspect Report, File #4101). The Volcano had previously been thoroughly inspected following a battle between Inspector Cooper (in the days when he was a criminal) and Clockwerk (see Incident Report, File #6966). The entire area surrounding the Volcano was found to be contaminated with a deadly gas that resulted from a unique metal, native only to the Volcano and the surrounding valley, being completely dissolved by the molten magma, which had previously been responsible for the deaths of several dozen men who were members of the investigation team following the incident in 1990. With the level of gas and radioactivity too dangerous to approach, the forces fell back and left the area._

_Before departing, a small clearing in the surrounding woodlands was discovered, where the forces found the body of an automobile that had long since been destroyed in an apparent explosion. Most of the vehicle's primary identifying features were destroyed, but several fragments of the front license plate allowed the investigators to identify it as the notorious vehicle used by the Cooper Gang. On Saturday, the 11__th__ of June, 2005, the same van had been reported as being involved in a high-speed pursuit with a local law enforcement vehicle across the freeways of Los Angeles. The suspect's vehicle managed to evade law enforcement, but after the law enforcement vehicle crashed, it was discovered that the officer who owned the vehicle had been murdered, his uniform, badge, and service weapon being taken from him by an apparent imposter. _

_Following the immediate investigation of the trail of Captain Braskel and Lieutenant Whitman, investigators discovered another rather unusual coincidence surrounding this chain of events. The other six former members of the Cooper Gang all either vanished or perished in some way over the course of the 120-hour period starting with the murder of Inspector Fox and culminating in the high-speed pursuit in Los Angeles, California._

_King, Panda (see Suspect Report, File #4109). Found dead on Saturday, the 11__th__ of June, 2005, after his house in the Kun-Lun Mountains of China had been destroyed in an explosion that had apparently resulted from an accident involving fireworks that he had been crafting for some time. Forensic investigators estimate that the explosion could have taken place as long as 48 hours prior to the discovery. _

_Lousteau, Dimitri (see Suspect Report, File #4798). Disappeared after attempting a dive to search for a long-lost shipwreck in the Caribbean Sea on Friday, the 10__th__ of June, 2005. His crew of three was on the vessel from New Orleans, Louisiana, from which he had departed when a violent hurricane struck, with no sign of Lousteau. The crew was forced to abandon their employer and return to the safety of the mainland._

_UNKNOWN (see Suspect Report, File #5005). Identified by some simply as "The Guru." Discovered dead in a small clearing in Central Park, New York City, New York, on Sunday, the 12__th__ of June, 2005. He and three of his meditation students had all been gunned down by an unidentified suspect during one of their training sessions. The autopsy placed the time of death for all four as approximately 10:00 to 11:00 the day before, Saturday, the 11__th__ of June, 2005. _

_Unknown last name, Penelope (see Suspect Report, File #5099). Has been missing ever since the incident at Kaine Island (see Incident Report, File #6697)._

_Unknown last name, Murray (see Suspect Report, File #4027). One of the three original members of the Cooper Gang. Last reported as residing in Los Angeles as of Saturday, the 11__th__ of June, 2005. Following that day, he also disappeared. _

_Unknown last name, Bentley (see Suspect Report, File #4026). One of the three original members of the Cooper Gang. Has been missing ever since the incident at Kaine Island (see Incident Report, File #6697)._

_Inspector Sly Cooper has not been heard from since then. Current status: Absent Without Leave. _

_From the desk of Barkley, Henry. Chief Inspector. Dated Sunday, the 2n__d__ of December, 2007._

_-CI Henry Barkley._


	2. Prologue II

Prologue II

We tried.

We all tried to move on. I know that they managed to do so rather easily. I think it's an understatement to say that Bentley and Murray were all too eager to return to the ways of the good old days. They loved the idea of going back to just the three of us, pulling off heists left and right all over again, with the law always just behind us. It does sound good. Going back to the way things were. Reconstructing our glory days from back when we were young. Back when nothing stood in our way. Back when we had never known failure.

Looking at us now, you'd think that it was just that way. You would never know that it had been only two and a half years since the greatest battle of all of our lives, and almost three years since – for me and Bentley – the most significant person in each of our lives had just died. True, it was impossible for either of us to move on from that. But moving on from the whole ordeal – ORNWOR, Vlotho, the Second Clockwerk, the deaths of all of the other former members – was where Bentley and I differed. He managed to forget all about it, and rightfully so.

But not me. No matter how hard I try. Not me. For some reason, even through the success of our dozens of heists since then, even through all of the planning for our next heist, even through the joy, excitement, and pure satisfaction of successfully reliving the good old days, I just can't forget. The capture, the attack, the fight, the laugh, the explosion…the death and destruction.

It started out very rarely, with only one dream of its kind every few months. But as the months rolled into years, as we passed the two-year anniversary of the incident, the nightmares became much more common and much more intense. They all varied in their setting and surrounding, and the incidents that took place near me, around me, to me. But through it all, there were always four things that happened in every single one of them.

The first would be the ghostly image of Carmelita, as beautiful as I remember her, and wearing nothing but a white nightgown. She would often have a very distant, despondent look in her eyes. Even if I approached her and turned her to face me, she would look on with a blank stare that appeared to stare right through my own eyes, right through my very being, right through my soul. Often times she'd simply drift away, as if carried off by the wind, and would vanish into the darkness surrounding me. And above all else about her appearance or her mannerisms, her absolute silence would be the worst thing.

The second thing was a pair of yellow eyes. They would stare out at me from the very same darkness that Carmelita always vanished into, as if taking her place and staring right through me. They would always start out small, distant, but still very piercing. Then they would grow larger and seem to come closer, towering in front of me with a powerfully bright light and powerfully evil glare staring out at me. Nothing else, just those eyes…those eyes…staring out at me.

Then, sometimes either right before they disappeared or right after they disappeared, the last thing that always happened in every single nightmare: A laugh. A long, deep, maniacal laugh would often be the first sound or last sound I'd hear in the dream. It would sound foreboding, but unfamiliar. It didn't sound quite like…like _his_ laugh…it had something deeper to it, firmer…but even more powerful. And even more terrifying.

Then, at the very end of every single dream, after the laugh died down, there would be a deafening roar. A massive explosion that seemed to be nowhere and everywhere at once, in one place yet all around me, spreading out and closing in. A massive, bright flash would then suddenly appear, and the force of the explosion would throw me off my feet.

Then I would wake up. Sometimes screaming. Sometimes not.

The few times I woke up with a scream, I would simply disregard to Bentley and Murray as nothing, as a brief nightmare, and insist that I was alright. Even if I knew I wasn't.

I just don't know what to think. What am I supposed to make of such commonly recurring dreams, with the same traits and the same terrifying result? Obviously, there's some sort of message here. But I just can't figure out what…

But whatever it is, it can't possibly be good.

And as they become more and more common, I fear that I'm running out of time…


	3. Prologue III

Prologue III

_Krak-Karov Volcano, Russia; Friday, December 21, 2007, 9:32 P.M…_

_The sun had long since set. It was dark in the farthest wilderness of Russia, and at a certain active volcano. It had been six months since the incident that resulted in a massive tremor in ORNWOR's leadership and infrastructure, the destruction of the facility, as well as their primary weapon. Now, the weapon itself left absolutely no traces behind after it had been destroyed, and the facility was nothing more than a long line of scorched black earth, where ashes had settled into the ground and outlines of the former structure remained like a massive grave marker. There was additionally a larger, squarer patch farther off from where the main facility had been where the large hangar, which housed the original primary weapon, had been. There was not a single piece of structure, of metal, of the priceless and formidable Karovanine that the entire facility had been constructed out of, left in the entire valley. There was not even a single insect in the area. What little grass and vegetation had been in the valley had been eaten by the deadly lava flow, the ground and soil scorched beyond resurrection by the heat and erosion of the earth by the molten liquid. It was truly a barren wasteland of death and destruction, where there had already been little life and tremendous evil, there was now no life and no evil. All was gone…removed from existence by the fire and brimstone of hell itself in the form of a volcano._

_But amidst this supposed wasteland, devoid of all life, hidden in a massive, underground cave behind the volcano, there was something amazing, something unbelievable, and something evil…_

In a large, dark, metallic room, a massive figure sat calmly in his throne, facing the large circular window before him. Outside the window, below and around him, was the rapid activity of the cave. Guards and other personnel were continuing to deliver crates of weapons onboard, forklifts buzzing back and forth with their lethal payload, stopping only for the brief content inspection before being waved on to deliver the contents.

They moved all around below him like ants. Just as fast. Just as efficient.

And just as obedient.

He heard the door to the control room open behind him, and even before the voice spoke up, he knew who it was.

"Commander, sir?"

"Yes, Johansen?"

"We're within the final stages of preparation. So far, all systems are good to go. Of course, we don't really have the chance to test them out…"

"Nor do we need to. Just let me know when it is safe to launch."

"Yes, sir. I think within the next few hours…"

"I need a specific number. 'A few' does not suffice."

A brief gulp. "Within the next two or two and a half hours."

"Very good."

Then, for the first time since the conversation began, the throne slowly spun around to face the squirrel. Although he had already seen his commanding officer numerous times, there was something about this slow reveal that still sent a shiver down his spine.

The raccoon rose out of his throne, reaching his full, true height of six foot ten. He looked down the small staircase at Johansen, slowly stepping down the stairs one at a time before brushing past the squirrel and heading towards the control room. Johansen turned around and followed slowly behind him.

The two men entered the sphere of a control room, where only two other technicians sat in front of massive control consoles. Lights blinked on and off in various patterns, gauges had various readings all across the board, dials and switches lined the panels, and computerized voices monotonously droned on various facts about the latest step in the process. The walls were lined, practically from floor to ceiling, with technology.

The two technicians quickly stopped whatever they were doing and rose to their feet, standing firmly at attention, until the raccoon replied. "As you were."

As the other two men sat down, the raccoon moved over to the microphone and switched on the dial for the main PA system.

Clearing his throat, he leaned closer to the microphone and began speaking. The system only slightly increased the depth and booming power of his voice.

"Attention, all personnel. Attention, all personnel. This is Commander Robert Belyeau. We now have approximately 150 minutes until launch. Repeat: We have approximately 150 minutes before the final launch. Continue loading as many supplies as possible until the last 20 minutes. When only 20 minutes remain, there will be one final announcement, and all personnel who are not yet onboard are to drop whatever they are doing, and board immediately. Repeat: Within the last 20 minutes, drop whatever you are doing and board. Also: Colonel Carr, Major Slovaki, General Yates, and Captain Moriarty, report to the conference room. That is all."

He switched the dial off once again, and the red light blinked off.

"Now be sure that you complete all system checks within the next two and a half hours." Belyeau firmly commanded to Johansen and the other two men.

"Yes, sir." All three responded simultaneously.

The raccoon nodded in return, then turned and left the control room. Once outside, he rounded the corner and walked up to the elevator shaft, pressing the single button to call the elevator. Once the needle above the door indicated that it had arrived, a low ding sounded, and the doors opened. Belyeau nearly had to duck in order to enter the doorway. Once inside the car, though, he could stand up straight with about two inches between the ceiling and the top of his head.

The elevator brought him down the length of the spire and through the massive nuclear generator before finally arriving just below the head that contained the generator. Once in the corridor, he turned sharply to the right until he reached the central shaft of the right leg. Normally, he would've taken one of the elevators down to his destination. However, he was well aware that the rush of activity on this particular day and within this particular timeframe would undoubtedly result in numerous stops. And just as much as he'd like to see numerous stunned reactions of the men at the very sight of their commanding officer, he'd much rather reach the conference room in the most efficient way possible. So he took one of the stairwells.

Plus, he wanted the exercise.

Only three times did he pass by another personnel member, and every time he passed them, they would instantly move aside and offer him the right-of-way and a salute. He would return the latter.

Once he reached his destination, he stepped out into the level to find it much more active than the top level. There were men dashing back and forth, in and out of the elevators, in and out of the stairwells, carrying crates into the nearest armory, some cleaning the weapons, some polishing off the nearest gunner stations. Those who weren't too busy to notice him quickly dropped what they were doing to render a salute, which he would return as he brushed past.

He finally reached the door, quickly typing in the necessary code on the keypad beside it. A brief triple beep sounded, and the red light above the door switched off while the green light switched on. The door slowly swung open, allowing Belyeau to slip into the glass corridor. The door automatically shut behind him, and the green light switched off to allow the red light to switch back on. At the end of the long corridor, he reached yet another door. In addition to typing on the keypad, he had to lean in close for a quick retinal scan. Once both were completed, the triple beep sounded, the lights switched, and the door swung open.

Inside there was a massive, oval-shaped table situated in the center of the room, with four uniformed men sitting at opposite ends of it. Once he entered the room, they all quickly stood up in their seats and came to attention.

"As you were." He responded.

The four men all sat back down. Belyeau walked around the table to the one empty seat. It was significantly larger and more elegant than the other four chairs around the table, which were smaller and simpler in design. He slowly sat down in it and casually folded his hands.

"Now, within three hours, we will be airborne. One final time, I want each and every one of you to state your name, rank, and job duties one more time. I want you all to tell me your respective duties one more time, just so that I know you are all aware of the tasks you have been assigned."

Although this was partially the reason for the desired briefing, Belyeau was secretly doing this because he himself was still not too familiar with all of these men. Over the last two and a half years, since his promotion to Commander upon the death of Commander Vlotho, his duties had involved mostly supervision over the construction process rather than interaction with the men themselves. He was only slightly, inwardly embarrassed that he didn't even know his fellow commanding officers, but he sought to remedy that now.

The first to stand up was Colonel Peter Carr, a German Shepherd. Carr was five foot seven and fairly thin, as he weighed about 165 pounds. He hailed from North America, and had entered into crime two years after he had left the military (just about all of the men at that table were ex-military, as were quite a few of the guards and other personnel).

"Colonel Peter Carr. I am the second-in-command over the entire personnel and the blimp army."

The next to stand up was a goat with a saber at his side. Major Slovaki was five foot five and overweight, at about 225 pounds. He was from Russia – Moscow to be precise – and had been out of the navy for nearly seven years, the last four of those years spent committing crimes all over eastern Europe and western Russia, before being recruited here.

"Major Molotov Slovaki. Direct commanding officer over all armed personnel aboard."

A tiger stood up next. George Yates was about 194 pounds, and five foot four. George had been raised in England, and was in the army for five years until he had suddenly received word that his family, his wife and two children, had been killed in a fire that destroyed their entire house. After that, he immediately resigned, and flooded away his sorrows with alcohol and drugs. Through those illegal drugs, he got involved in crime. His crimes then became worse and worse until he was a low-down, heartless criminal that robbed liquor stores one day, then a high-class bank the next. He eventually realized that crime was his true passion, and not drugs. He subsequently quit using the substances, and thus had time to recover his Olympian-like build, becoming very firm and well-built. He had become one of the most feared outlaws in all of Western Europe.

"General George Yates. Military advisor to the Commander and chief pilot of the blimp fleet."

Last was Captain William Moriarty, a duck with an eye patch over his right eye. Moriarty was five foot two, and around 170 pounds. Captain Moriarty was once a pilot for the Russian military, and it was barely half a year after he left the military when he was recruited by these men due to his exceptional piloting skills and survival skills. Following the crash of his jet in the wilderness of an eastern Russia mountain range – the incident that took his right eye – he had to survive in the brutal cold and isolation for fourteen days, on food he had to catch from the wildlife around him, before a rescue team finally found him.

"Captain William Moriarty. Direct commanding officer over the entire blimp fleet and commanding officer whenever aboard the Command Blimp."

"Good, good." Belyeau commented as Moriarty sat down. "Now, gentlemen, we are gathered here today on the eve of the launch of our greatest creation. Within the next three hours, we shall begin the longest, hardest, most significant journey any of you will ever embark on. The journey will come at a cost of time, effort, and lives. But, eventually, we will reach our destination. And when we do, the reward will be far greater than anything you could possibly imagine. All I ask of you and the other personnel aboard this majestic creation is that you give it everything you have. When we need to defend, you must defend. When we need to attack, you must attack. Only absolute effort and determination from all of you will prevent an attack or infiltration from proving fatal. We have come this far, and we are now at the point of no return. The next time any of us step off of this thing and set foot on soil, it will be the soil of a new world. A former world wiped clean of its impurities and waiting for us to start it over again. Do I make myself very clear?"

"Sir, yes sir." All four uniformed men responded.

"Very good." He slowly stood up. "Meeting adjourned. You are all to report to your various duties and keep a close supervision over the men. No man is to relax or take a break. The work must continue at a rapid pace until the moment of takeoff. Do I make myself very clear?"

"Sir, yes sir."

"Good. Dismissed."


	4. Return

Return

_Paris, France; Friday, December 7, 2007, 1:52 A.M..._

"_NO!"_

Unsure of whether or not he had merely shouted it in his dream or in real life, Sly shot up in his bed, clutching his head and grinding his teeth as tightly as he could. He opened his eyes at long last, staring out at the rest of his bed before him and the door beyond it. It was mostly dark in the room around him, and the darkness only added to the disorientation of the immediate aftermath of the nightmare he had just broken free from.

He closed his eyes again, breathing in and out heavily. It took him a few moments to regain his composure, and realize what had just happened.

_Not again_.

He could feel the sweat dripping off his brow, and on his palms. He grabbed the covers and threw them off, as they only made it even hotter and more disorienting. He slowly slid out of the bed, wearing only his pants. He stumbled through the dark room to the door, out into the hall and towards the bathroom.

Flicking on the light switch on the wall beside him cast the first bit of light he had seen since the nightmare, and the brilliant white flash briefly stunned him and forced him to squint. But he eventually shook it off and stared at the disheveled, disturbed face in the mirror in front of him. Closing the door behind him, he moved over to the sink and turned on the cold water, letting it run freely over his hands as he cupped them together. He held them under the water for a few more seconds, enjoying the chill of the fresh water even as it overflowed from his cupped hands. Then he finally threw the water into his face, splashing it over his fur and dripping down onto the sink and floor around him. He took several deep breaths, letting the water run down his face, before cupping his hands again and throwing another bunch of water in his face even faster.

It had happened again. No matter how hard he tried to avoid thinking about it, he had the nightmare again. It got more and more intense, and this time was no exception. The ghostly image of Carmelita was even more haunting, the horrible yellow eyes were even brighter, the laugh was longer and deeper, and the explosion was far more powerful. Even if just a dream, he could feel the force of the blast in his nightmare. As always, it had been the one thing that jolted him from his sleep.

It had happened _again_.

With a growl of frustration, he slammed his fists down on the sink with a _BANG_ as his fists slammed against the porcelain.

He couldn't keep doing this. He couldn't go on every single night with these nightmares practically eating him alive.

But what could he do? How could he make them go away?

He thought for a moment. Then he realized something. In his dream this time around, he thought he saw a flash of something in between the yellow eyes and the laugh. He hadn't thought much of it during the actual dream, but now that he thought about it, it was a new feature that he hadn't seen before, even though he had this dream dozens of time.

The Volcano.

That smoldering mountain, smoke still rising out of the crater, the distinct orange glow just barely visible. He remembered it now, and he realized what it meant.

He sighed and tightened his grip on the sides of the sink, not liking the idea one bit but knowing that there was no other solution.

He didn't know what else to think. It was becoming clearer and clearer every night, ever time he went through this. But it still wasn't solid.

Another deep intake of breath, followed by a long exhale. He still squeezed his eyes shut, as if keeping them closed would shut out the horrible memory and the rest of the world with it.

"Sly."

The first thought running through his wreck of a mind was that it was either Bentley or Murray, once again, coming to check on him after a loud awakening. But after a few more seconds of refusing to open his eyes, he realized that the voice was much different. It was feminine, and all too familiar.

He finally opened his eyes, staring down at the sink that he was still clutching.

"Sly." The voice called again.

He slowly raised his head, then nearly threw himself back against the door when he saw another person in the mirror rather than his own reflection.

"Sly." The voice of Carmelita Fox called once more, as her image, from the midriff up, stood in the mirror before him. Unlike the white gown she wore in all his dreams, she was now back in her regular police uniform.

He nearly had a heart attack at the sight of her, after so long. She looked exactly as he remembered her.

"Carmelita…" Sly started.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"This…this can't be." Sly squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head again. "Am I…still dreaming?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. But while I am here, I have to warn you."

"Warn me?" He looked back up at her, struggling to grasp what was happening.

"Warn you about the imminent threat. It is inevitable, and it is determined."

"What is it? What's this threat?"

"The most terrifying, most powerful, most destructive thing that you can possibly imagine." As she spoke this sentence, something in her voice seemed distant and hollow, further enhancing the illusion of this entire scenario.

"That…that doesn't help. I need to know _what_ it is…Is it from my dreams?"

"Yes."

"Those yellow eyes…that laugh…the explosion…Are they all part of it?"

"Yes." She repeated in an equally monotone response.

"And…that Volcano…It appeared in my dream for the first time. I saw it clearly. That _was_ the Volcano, wasn't it? The Krak-Karov Volcano?"

"Yes."

"I…I have to go there, don't I?"

"Yes."

"Enough with the 'yeses', Carmelita. I have to know: what is it? I have to know. I must know. What is this threat?"

For the last four responses, her voice sounded empty and monotone, almost emotionless. But then, just before her image vanished into a blur of color and motion and was replaced by his own reflection, she uttered two more words. And she said these two words in a very ominous voice that seemed to echo from beyond the mirror and beyond the two worlds that they each inhabited.

"…The past."

And then she was gone.

Sly found himself staring into his own eyes once again. The only sound in the entire room was the continual rushing of the water from the faucet. It was as if she was never there. Maybe she wasn't.

It took a few long moments for Sly to fully digest all that had just happened, and when he realized the abnormal – almost supernatural – circumstances of the situation, and how even he didn't know whether or not it was a dream, the pure ambiguity of the whole situation unleashed something he had very rarely seen in himself. Pure and powerful frustration, anger, sorrow, doubt, and confusion all collided and exploded out of him at once.

Sly then unleashed a loud, long roar of fury as he slammed his fists down against the sink one final time. He didn't even hear it through his own rage, but he could feel the porcelain of the sink buckle under the force as his fists cracked the gleaming white edge. Still full of white hot rage, he raised one fist up off the sink and back behind him before slamming it with all his might into the cursed mirror, shattering the glass and distorting the reflected image of himself and the room around him. Several shards of glass fell off altogether and landed in or around the sink. One piece bounced off and fell to the floor with a shatter as it broke to several more pieces. Ignoring the pain in his fist as blood leaked from his knuckles, he reared back and smashed his fist into the ruined mirror again, with another roar. His knees then buckled out from under him at that moment, and as he fell to the cold floor, his bloody fist grabbed onto the faucet and pulled so hard that he yanked it right off, now sending a jet of water straight up into the air, splashing back down onto the floor and partially onto his own body as he leaned against the back wall. He sat against the wall as he stared up at the ceiling, blood leaking from his right hand's knuckles and water dripping down onto him, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth open as he sobbed loudly and miserably. But the entire time, even as the door was thrown open when Bentley and Murray burst into the room, everything else around him grew silent or intangible. The feeling of the sticky blood disappeared, the water dripping onto him and the sogginess of his clothing vanished, the frantic words of his friends, and his own sobbing, vanished into silence before he finally blacked out.

…

Sly wasn't exactly sure when he woke up, for he was still in a very hazy environment where a rush of sounds mixed together into a single blur. He thought he could hear voices…familiar voices…

"_The past…"_

Then his eyes finally opened, and he stared up at the dark ceiling, with the fan blades spinning rapidly and sending a faint wave of cool air down onto him. He could also feel a wet, fairly heavy presence on his forehead.

He slowly began to prop himself up into a sitting position using his elbows, just as Murray came into his field of vision standing over him.

"Hey, he's awake!"

"Oh, thank Heaven." Bentley replied as he also wheeled over. Just as he arrived at Sly's bedside, the wet rag fell off of Sly's forehead, crumpling onto his lower stomach.

"Sly, how do you feel?"

"It…I…I can barely tell what's real or what's a dream anymore."

"I see…So what happened in there?! The mirror was smashed, the sink was cracked, the faucet was torn off…"

Sly weakly lifted up one hand to his forehead, rubbing it casually and closing his eyes again. He was now sitting straight up, and could see more clearly.

"I…I lost it…just for a moment."

"Well, what made you 'lose it'?" Bentley pressed further. "Something in your dream? Unless you sleepwalked into the bathroom, then you were awake when it happened."

"No, I was awake. I know…I know…" He opened his eyes again, glancing down at his other hand. There were several bandages crudely wrapped around his knuckles, and a few drops of blood on and outside the bandages.

"Well, then you should have an easier time remembering it if you were awake. Sly: What happened in there?"

During the entire interrogation, the painful memory of Carmelita's appearance was, indeed, still fresh in his mind. Every single second of it, every single word she said…it all still rang true. So why couldn't he answer his friend?

"The V…The Volcano."

"Say again?"

"The Volcano. The Krak…The Krak-Karov Volcano."

"What about the Krak-Karov Volcano?"

"We…We have to go there. _I _have to go there."

"Your dream told you this?"

"That much I clearly remember. It told me more clearly than any dream I've ever had before. Whatever is causing these…these nightmares is at the Volcano."

Bentley finally turned to Murray, who had been silent the entire time, his eyes now wide at this last statement. The two friends shared a brief glance before they both turned back to their bedridden comrade.

"Well, in that case, I think we should go as soon as possible. You've been having nightmares consistently for the last few months, and this is the worst outcome yet. If these are starting to physically affect you, then we have to deal with it now."

"No…_I_ have to deal with it."

Sly slowly swung his legs over to the side of the bed, gently setting both feet on the floor and grabbing the edge of the bed. He lifted his head up and looked right at both of his friends.

"I don't want you guys to get hurt in any way, shape, or form. Even something as minor as this…"

He held up his bloodied knuckles.

"…I don't want happening to you. I'll go alone."

"I don't think so, buddy." Murray finally stepped in. "We're all in this together. We've been through tough times, emotional struggles, and close calls in the past. Why should we just let you go off on your own now? And I'm no genius, but I think it's obvious enough that whatever is causing these nightmares has something to do with what happened there two years ago."

"He's…he's right, Sly. I was getting ready to say the same thing myself. And if it's anything remotely close to the magnitude of that incident, then you can't go alone. I'm sorry, Sly, but we're going with you."

The pain, the memory, the imagery, and the emotion made it all too complicated and too much for Sly to bother with arguing, let alone with his two best friends, so he simply sighed and agreed.

"OK. We'll all go."

"Very well. We'll pack in the morning and leave around noon."

As they both left Sly's room, their friend lied back down on the bed, a hand on his forehead as he stared blankly up at the ceiling. But as they left, they were certain of two things: This trip was not going to yield zero results, and none of them would be getting any sleep for the rest of the night.

Especially Sly.


	5. Departure

Departure

_Paris, France; Friday, December 7, 2007, 11:47 A.M..._

Sly, Bentley, and Murray finally arrived at the hangar that Bentley designated. It was like all of the other blank, dark gray hangars in the abandoned airport. The white "16" on the side was faded and rusted along with the rest of the building, and there were no other signs of life in the entire area.

"Here we are. I knew this old airport would come in handy in some way. Murray, if you'd please."

Murray set down his very small bag of supplies and grabbed the edge of the long, metal door. With a grunt and all of his strength put into it, he slowly managed to slide the entire door all the way back, letting light pour into the dusty, dark interior of the hangar.

There were various objects scattered around the room, each one just as dusty as the last; piles of crates, toolboxes, barrels, and so on. But in the center of the hangar, most prominent of all, was the blimp. There were a few noticeably discolored patches on the otherwise-tan canvas covering, as well as a scorch mark on the metal deck. But other than that, it was just as good as the day they had stolen it.

"I've been keeping this here for quite some time." Bentley informed them as they entered with their bags in hand. As they entered the old wheelhouse, dusting off chairs, setting their bags aside, and with Murray doing a quick check-up of the engine, the propellers, and the controls, Bentley continued with his spiel.

"You see, after the incident with Arpeggio's blimp back in '92, Murray and I were left with very little time and practically no means to escape. As you may recall, our van was lost at that time. So we had no choice but to rummage through the wreckage until we found this. You may recall that, in addition to the massive aerial fortress, Arpeggio had three other blimps trailing the main one that completed his fleet: The HQ blimp, and the two smaller blimps. The HQ blimp was completely obliterated and reduced to pieces, while the other blimp's engine had been torn in half by the impact. This was the only one that was still in fairly decent condition after the explosion and subsequent crash, so with a few quick fix-ups, we managed to get it up in the air and working like new again. But after we retrieved the van, this old beauty just faded into obscurity…swept under the rug, if you will. But now, for the first time in 15 years, we don't have the van any longer. So it looks like she'll fulfill her purpose after all. And besides that, aerial travel really is the fastest and most efficient alternative. So we'll be there in a matter of days. A day and a half at the maximum."

"Looks good to me, chum!" Murray reported. "Besides all the dust."

"That's fine, Murray. It's time to get her airborne."

The three settled into their seats, with Murray sitting down in front of the controls. They all fastened their seat belts as Murray flipped a few switches and hit a few buttons. The engine choked and sputtered before finally settling with a soft, low hum. The propellers began to spin, creating the only form of noise that the blimp ever emitted.

"Alright, now to get her off the ground…"

Murray slowly grabbed the throttle and pushed it forward ever so slightly. The blimp rocked briefly before slowly lifting up off the ground by a matter of inches.

"OK, so far so good…" Bentley informed as he leaned over to look out the window. "Now take us straight forward and out the door. And do be careful to not take us too high or too low; we don't want to scrape the ground or the doorframe on our way out."

"You got it…"

The blimp hovered forward slowly, tilting side-to-side very faintly as it edged its way out the door, out of the darkness and into the sunlight. Once they were finally clear of the hangar, Murray pulled back all the way, and the blimp quickly gained altitude until the city and people below it were minimized.

Once the compass was aligned in the direction of their destination, Murray held it steady. "Alright…bearing due east, en route for the Krak-Karov Volcano, Russia." He flipped a few more switches. "And…the auto-pilot's taking over."

"So now…we wait." Bentley replied.

Sly stared out the window at the scenery passing by beneath them, the endless number of possibilities of what they would find plaguing his mind and shutting out all that his friends did or said.

…

"Propulsion?"

"Check."

"Reversed polarity?"

"Check."

"Radar disrupter?"

"Check."

"Cloaking mechanism?"

"Check."

"Nuclear deterrence system?"

"Check."

Belyeau stood firmly behind the three technicians. Johansen rattled off the list of various aspects that were needed to begin the primary launch sequence, and one of the two underlings in chairs before him responded with "check" obediently to every one.

After a few more system checks, Johansen slowly turned to Belyeau.

"Everything seems to be in perfect working order, sir."

"Then give the word."

"All systems go. We are now ready to launch."

"Excellent."

Belyeau strode over to the intercom controls in two quick steps, leaned over, and casually held down the button.

"Attention, all personnel! Attention, all personnel! After all these years of preparation, of revised schematics, of failed tests and experiments, it is finally time. We are ready to launch. All personnel to your stations immediately. Those who are not onboard now shall be left behind. Will the quarter commanders each report now?"

He then released the button, and listened as, one by one, all 243 quarter commanders reported in that all of their personnel were present and accounted for. The process took over 20 minutes.

"Very well. All personnel present and accounted for." Belyeau reported once again over the intercom. "Prepare yourselves, gentlemen, as we are all about to witness the turning point in the history of mankind, as we rise up to take our rightful place on top of this world."

He released the button once again. "Johansen…launch."

"Yes, sir." He replied before turning to the two underlings. "Initiate all systems. All generators full power. Propulsion levels to maximum. Open the crater doors."

With each and every command, a button was pressed, a dial was turned, a switch was flipped. Various lights came on and beeps sounded off, and the whirring of the inner workings of this grand creation could be heard roaring to life.

Belyeau cracked a small grin.

"Crater doors have opened." One reported.

"Reversed polarity up to maximum power." The other added. "We are ready to become airborne."

"Do it." Johansen commanded.

Several more switches.

There was a powerful jolting that shook the entire structure, causing even the firm, statue-like Belyeau to briefly be shaken to one side.

"I assume that was to be expected?" He asked.

"Y-yes, sir." Johansen replied after recovering. "The initial moment of raising this thing off the ground takes…well, you can imagine how much power that would take. Once we're at a decent altitude, we'll never experience a jolt like that again."

"Very well."

Belyeau slowly turned and walked out of the control room, entering the room where his throne was perched at the top of a platform. He slowly ascended the stairs as the rumbling grew louder. A few slight vibrations shook the structure again, though not nearly as powerfully as the last jolt. As he reached the top of the staircase, the humming and the whirring grew louder. He slowly sat down in his throne and turned it around, watching through the massive, circular window. He stared out at the dark, underground cave that this project had been conceived, born, and raised in. Pure darkness, dull, hard surroundings…now their creation would finally see the light of day.

Belyeau glanced up through the window and could already see, through the newly-opened doors above them, the night sky and its many bright, small stars.

_Guess the light of day will have to wait just a little longer._ He thought with a chuckle.

Then, very, ever so slowly, he could see the movement. The cave floor below seemed to grow more distant, and the rock formations on the cave walls around them seemed to be moving down like a very, very slow waterfall.

Belyeau didn't even care how long it took. He could only stare out the window in mute fascination as the surroundings slowly lowered around them, and the massive machine rose higher into the sky, rising into history, rising to make history…

Then, after what seemed like over half an hour, the machine had finally risen up through the doors, had risen up past the massive, extinct Volcano, and up into the sky. Soon, it had risen to the same level as the clouds, at about the average flying altitude of the common airliner.

Belyeau glanced down through the window as the massive crater doors below them, in the ground behind the massive Volcano, slowly lowered back down into position. As they closed, the fake grass on top of them became visible as a drastic contrast to its gray metal undersides. When they firmly closed once again, the grass camouflage fit in perfectly with the rest of the grass around it, making it nearly undetectable.

Then, finally, the ascent stopped.

"Success, success!" Johansen reported happily.

Belyeau, with a grin, pressed the intercom button on the armrest of his chair.

"Success, success! We are airborne, and all systems are fully operational!"

Even here, in his throne room high above the rest of the men in the structure, Belyeau could faintly hear the rise of collective cheering and applause.

"Now, gentlemen, we shall begin our crusade to begin the world over. And the entire world population will tremble, once again, at the name, ORNWOR."

Belyeau released the button and turned his head slightly in Johansen's direction.

"Begin forward locomotion, Johansen."

"Yes, sir. Beginning forward locomotion."

Then, at long last, the massive Death Ray began moving forward across the Russian countryside.


	6. Milestone

Milestone

_In the sky over Russia; Friday, December 7, 2007, 10:29 P.M..._

The Death Ray came upon its first town since it left the Krak-Karov Volcano: The Russian town of Neryungri. The town was appeared on the Death Ray's radar in the control room.

"Mr. Johansen." said one of the two technicians in the Death Ray's main control room. The lead technician turned towards the man who spoke.

"Yes?"

"We've come upon our first victim."

"Very good. Identify."

"The town of Neryungri, sir. Population, approximately 61,747."

"Good, good. I shall inform Commander Belyeau." He turned and left the control room. He walked through the door into the large observation room. Sure enough, the commander was sitting in the throne. Johansen walked up the steps. Belyeau could hear the footsteps and slowly turned around.

Before Johansen even opened his mouth to speak, Belyeau spoke up.

"Sir?"

"Yes, I know. We have arrived at our first town. Population?"

"Approximately 60,000, sir."

"Then this shall be a milestone for us, Johansen. First, I shall alert everyone onboard that our very first demonstration shall commence immediately. I want everyone to have the knowledge that this is happening, and see it for themselves."

He pressed the button on the right armrest of his throne, activating the intercom system. This button was one out of only three devices on the whole Death Ray that could activate the intercom system on the Death Ray, the other two being in the main control room, and on the table in front of Belyeau's throne in the meeting room.

"Attention, all personnel. Attention, all personnel. This is Commander Robert Belyeau. Please direct your attention to the town directly below us. Once we break through the clouds, you shall be able to see it. It shall be the very first town to fall victim to our laser. All of you simply must observe."

He then turned back to Johansen. "Take us down to firing range, Johansen. Once we are, you may fire at will."

"Yes, sir." He nodded and went back into the control room. He repeated the orders to the other two technicians.

The Death Ray dropped to one mile. They could all see the town. One of the technicians pushed the intercom button in the control room and announced, "Neryungri, in range. Commencing laser fire sequence." The technician walked over to a group of small, square buttons on the control board. It was laid out in a three-by-three pattern. He pressed the one that was on the far right of the middle horizontal row. It was white like all the other square ones, but when he pressed it, it turned from white to red. He then moved towards a single circular button that was yellow. When he pressed it, it turned green. He then moved to a set of dials. There were three of them, laid out horizontally. The one on the far left was turned all the way to the left. The man turned it until it was all the way to the right. The one in the middle was turned all the way to the right. He turned it until it was turned all the way to the left. The one on the far right was halfway between all the way to the left and the middle. He turned it until it was between all the way to the right and the middle. Then there were two levers, one above the other. The one on the top was in the down position, so he flicked it into the up position, and the one below that was in the up position, so he moved it down. Then he moved to a single knob, similar to that of an oven. It was all the way to the right. The man gave it a quarter turn so that it was in the middle. Then he walked over to a keypad with the nine different numbers and a zero, somewhat like a telephone. He typed in a 5-digit code. A square patch of the control board next to the keypad flashed light gray. He pressed it. It split in half and opened up. There was another keypad. The technician typed in a 7-digit code, and a glass case that was covering a large, red button slid open. Then he typed an extra 3-digit code into the same keypad, and the large, red, circular button brightened up, revealing the word FIRE printed on it in black letters.

Johansen slowly strode over to the button and pressed it. The sound of machinery starting up in the head could be heard throughout the head and both the shoulders, but the low hum of the superlaser itself being charged up could be heard throughout the entire Death Ray. The low, ominous hum lasted for about ten seconds. Then, the two individual white beams shot out simultaneously from the two yellow eyes of the Death Ray. They shot out about barely seventy-five feet from the head of the Death Ray, forming a large triangle, and then the two beams joined at the top of the triangle. A large ball of energy began to form. Then, out of the ball of energy, a single beam shot forward, moving down towards the town.

It was a truly majestic nuclear explosion. The silent white flash lasted barely one second. Then the ball of orange erupted from the very spot where the laser impacted. Instantly it grew, larger and larger with every microsecond. It was massive, sweeping over everything in all directions. There wasn't even time for anything, any debris, to fly in all directions, as everything was disintegrated instantly. It swept out over everything. Once the initial explosion settled down, it slowly transferred to black. A thick, black smoke that was terribly dark. It plumed up into the sky, a towering inferno, rising higher and higher, seeming to take the souls of all those killed into the heavens with it. The mushroom cloud rose up into the clouds, black colliding with white and distorting the sky.

After the smoke, dust, and flames settled down, all that remained of the Russian town of Neryungri was nothing more than a giant, smoldering crater.


	7. Capture: Part I

Capture Part I

_In the sky over Russia; Saturday, December 8, 2007, 11:39 P.M..._

The blimp cruised over the Russian countryside, the snow-covered mountains and trees passing by with little to no sign of civilization. It was often very silent in the wheelhouse, with only the occasional voice over the radio, often speaking in rapid Russian. Although Bentley knew Russian, he didn't care for much of what was intercepted. Ever since they first heard the news break, back in the hotel room they had stayed at in Ukraine for their one and only stop, that a town of 60,000 in the far eastern area of Russia had been mysteriously destroyed by a nuclear explosion, there were voices and communications rushing back and forth about the matter like there was no tomorrow. Already, there were reports that Russia, America, Britain, China, and other leading world powers were readying their armies in preparation for World War III. Although nothing direct, accusations had been carefully hinted at by Russian bureaucrats that they suspected foul play, even though they refused to provide an official explanation and had simply stated that an investigation was underway. It was devastating news indeed, but to the three men in a single blimp flying east across the western Russian countryside, it might as well have meant little. What were they to do?

Although it was in the middle of the harsh winter, Sly still had to step outside onto the deck for some crisp, fresh air.

He slowly walked up to the very front of the blimp and grasped the railing, leaning forward and looking halfway between the ground below and the sky stretched out above them. He wasn't so much observing the surroundings as he was gazing aimlessly into emptiness, trying to sort through his confusion.

He was so deep in thought that he didn't even hear the sound of the door opening and closing behind him as his friend slowly wheeled up behind him.

"Sly?"

Without even looking back, he responded. "Yeah?"

"What's wrong, Sly? And I would appreciate it if you just told me the truth this time. Just between you and me."

Sly sighed, glancing down more at the scenery passing by them rather quickly, with the occasional group of clouds obscuring his vision.

"Those nightmares you keep waking up from, screaming in the middle of the night…they mean something, don't they? There's something in your nightmares that you don't want to tell us about."

"I told you before, it's-."

"No, Sly. It's not fine." Bentley now wheeled around to be right next to Sly, leaning into his peripheral vision so that Sly could no longer act as if he wasn't there. "I know what's 'fine' with you and what's not fine. And believe me, you're not doing fine. Look, why are you so afraid to tell us? You act like it's some deep dark secret that could change everything."

"It just might be."

"Sly, we're your friends. I'm your friend. We've known each other since we were kids. And now you suddenly think you can't tell me about a few nightmares?"

Bentley's gentle but firm words rang true with Sly, and he knew that he was only fooling himself by thinking that he could keep this under wraps.

He closed his eyes, feeling only the cold wind whipping against his face and the metal railing under his gloved hands. He took a deep breath.

"Actually, Sly, you don't need to say anything. Just answer me this: Does it have to do with what happened two and a half years ago?"

Sly froze, his eyes now open and with Bentley off to the side.

"Does it? Carmelita, Penelope, the Second Clockwerk…I suppose it's obvious enough, seeing as how you want to return to the Krak-Karov Volcano."

Sly finally turned to face his friend, staring into his eyes with a look of pure ambiguity born out of stress and confusion.

"I just…something tells me that…I'll find closure there. It appeared in my last nightmare – the Volcano, that is – when it had never appeared before. It was only for a few seconds, but I could recognize it clearly. The fact that it appeared so clearly just…it told me something."

He sighed and shook his head.

"I probably sound like a madman right now."

"No, Sly. It's fine. I understand. After all, some of the greatest messages or visions of all time appear to us in dreams."

"But I just…I don't want you and Murray to be put in harm's way. Believe me, that's the last thing I want. We already lost too many people…because of me."

"It wasn't because of you, Sly. There was nothing you could do."

"For Carmelita? For…"

Both of them knew which name he had in mind and was getting ready to say, but Sly just couldn't bring himself to say it. Instead of releasing the word, he released a long exhale, then leaned out over the railing to avoid Bentley's look.

For a few long moments, they both stood there in silence. Neither one knew what to say, had anything to say, or wanted to say anything. Bentley gazed down at the metal floor while Sly gazed out at the countryside.

Then, finally, Sly broke the silence.

"Can I just ask you one question?"

"Of course, Sly. Anything."

"How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"How did you move on? I mean, I know you'll always miss her and always love her…just as much as I loved Carmelita. But it was just so horrible for me. Almost as horrible as Carmelita's death. You were traumatized when I first had to tell you about it. So how did you manage to so easily put it behind you and move on?"

It was, indeed, a good question. However, Bentley needed less than two seconds of hesitation before answering.

"The answer may be easier than you think. All I do is two things. First, I hold onto the good memories. All the wonderful times we had together, from the first time we met to the last time I saw her. All of the happy times we shared. True, her death is something I'll never forget…but if I just cling to the happiest of days we shared, then the happiness truly does outshine the negativity. It's what she would've wanted me to do. And that actually leads me to the second thing I did to overcome it. I'm sure that, if she was in my position, and I was the one who died, she'd be just as crushed as I was. She'd be devastated that I was gone. But with most of her life still ahead of her, she'd ultimately be willing to move on rather than dwell on the past. So if it's what she would've done, it's what I needed to do, too. I'm sure she'd be happy to see that I was still holding on to the good memories of her, without letting them hold me back. In a way, moving on from her death in this manner is the best possible way to honor her and cherish her memory."

Throughout Bentley's entire response, Sly remained completely silent and motionless, still staring out over the earth below them. But at some point during the speech, a single tear fell from Sly's left eye, the wind quickly wiping it further across his face and out of Bentley's view.

"Do you get what I'm saying?"

After another pause, Sly weakly responded: "Yeah."

"And, although I do consider this to be the best way to handle it, it's ultimately not what I'm suggesting. I'm suggesting that you handle this however Carmelita would've wanted you to handle it. If she would've wanted you to get out there and kick some butt, then get out there and kick some butt. If she would've wanted you to do as I did, and hold onto the best memories, then hold onto the best memories with all your strength. Again, doing what she would've wanted is the best way to remember her. In my opinion."

"Yeah." Sly repeated. Then he added: "Thanks, Bentley."

Bentley expected Sly to turn to him for a friendly embrace, but when his friend remained leaned against the railing, the turtle slowly backed up and wheeled over to the wheelhouse. As he opened the door, he glanced back at Sly one final time. His friend was still leaning over the railing, motionless as a statue.

With a sigh of his own, Bentley entered the wheelhouse and closed the door softly behind him.

Murray, still sitting at the controls, glanced at his friend as he entered.

"Well? Did you reach him?"

Bentley glanced at Murray, then down at the floor. For one of the very few, rare times in his entire life, he could only respond with: "I don't know."

…

Once he heard the door close behind him, Sly closed his eyes and let the next few tears freely slide down his face, the wind wiping them across and leaving dried streaks on his cheeks.

…

From the main control room, Arnold Johansen perked up at the slight beeping emitting from the radar screen. By the time he crossed over to the screen, one of the other technicians had already slid his chair over to it and was leaning over it, the green glow casting off his face and torso.

"What is it?" Johansen asked.

"A small aircraft off the bow by approximately a mile and a half. Its altitude is lower than ours, so it can't see us due to the cloud cover. Closing in."

"Call sign?"

"Uh…"

The technician leaned in closer and peered at the set of numbers and letters that were next to the blip of the oncoming aircraft.

"Call sign of AB2991. It's a very small aircraft, sir."

"I'll inform the Commander."

Johansen turned and moved quickly out of the control room into the Commander's observation room. The other two technicians couldn't help but listen in as Johansen quickly relayed the message to their superior officer. They could faintly hear Belyeau's muttered response, followed by a rather quick and heavy set of footsteps approaching the door. It opened rather quickly and the tall raccoon swept into the room with the squirrel in tow. Before either of them could even begin to stand up as per the courtesy, he cut it off.

"As you were. What was that call sign again?"

By now, he was standing right behind the technician who was at the radar screen, making him feel even shorter and more insignificant as his commanding officer towered over him.

"Uh…AB2991. It's a mile out and closing."

Belyeau leaned in close and glanced at the radar screen, studying the small computer simulation of the approaching aircraft.

"That call sign…It's familiar."

"Sir?"

Belyeau then straightened up and moved swiftly over to the intercom. He leaned over the microphone and pressed the button next to it, then said into the intercom: "Attention, all personnel. Attention, all personnel. This is Commander Belyeau. The following personnel are to report to _L_. Hangar No. 10: Blimp Crew 132, Blimp Crew 476, Blimp Crew 817, Blimp Crew 101, and Blimp Crew 13. Once you arrive, contact me through the control room of that level. Go."

Each and every blimp crew onboard had their own I.D. number. The numbers were assigned to the crews rather than to the blimps themselves so that the crews wouldn't have to be constrained by constantly piloting only one specific blimp. With this system, any crew could pilot any blimp at a moment's notice, as every blimp itself was exactly the same. Belyeau came to know the greatest crews in the blimp army; namely, the best pilots, most accurate gunners, and most well-trained captains. And the five he had just mentioned were well-known for being the best five blimp crews they had.

Belyeau waited rather patiently for the response, which came after about two minutes.

"Commander, sir." Belyeau identified it as the voice of Ike Haskell, the lead technician of the control room of _L_. Hangar No. 10.

Belyeau pressed and held down the button to respond, and said, "Yes?"

"The five blimp crews you mentioned are all here and accounted for, sir."

"Good. Now, I want the five of them to go out there immediately, waste no time. There is a blimp out there that is most definitely not one of ours, but its design and call sign are still very familiar. If it is who I suspect it is, then we must NOT destroy it. Instead, I want those five blimp crews to go out there and capture it. Use the grappling hooks, and bring it back here. But _do not_, under any circumstances, destroy it. Make sure that you make that point very clear."

"Yes, sir."

After repeating Belyeau's command to the crews, they wasted no time in boarding the five aircraft nearest the door and taking off. The massive doors were opened, and the five aircraft headed out.

…

The monotony and boredom inside the blimp's wheelhouse was suddenly shattered by five rapid blips on the radar screen.

"Whoa. What was that?" Murray asked, startled by the sudden sound.

Bentley, still deep in thought about Sly's situation, perked up at the sound and glanced in the direction of the radar screen.

"I don't know."

He quickly wheeled over to the screen at the front of the wheelhouse, next to Murray, and leaned over it. The long line had just completed another circular motion around their radar range, and the five shapes appeared again, accompanied by the five blips in rapid succession, as the five shapes were lined up in a flanking motion.

"Five bogeys coming at us at twelve o'clock. But they're already well within radar range. We should've been notified of their approach…at least 30 seconds earlier."

Bentley quickly wheeled over to the door and emerged on deck once again. Sly was still standing at the railing, staring down.

"Sly, do you see anything directly ahead of us?"

Sly raised his head, but didn't turn around. "Why?"

"We've got five shapes approaching on the radar, coming straight at us from the front. They're moving in a flanking motion, and it seems too unusual of an approach for civilian aircraft. They're roughly the same size and shape as us…"

"But I don't see anything. Anywhere."

Bentley wheeled over to the front with him and looked out ahead for himself. Sure enough, there was no sign of any approaching aircraft.

It didn't make any sense. They were approaching rapidly on the radar, but nowhere in sight…

With a sudden realization, Bentley slowly craned his head up, staring at the white cloud cover above them.

Then, as if on cue, five shapes dropped through the clouds suddenly and approached at a downward slope. Five shapes, lined up side-by-side.

Five blimps.

"Bentley…I've got a bad feeling about this." Sly said as he, also noticing the aircraft, stepped back from the railing.

"Well, you're not alone there."

As they drew closer, Bentley took note of how strikingly similar they were to their own blimp, although he took note of two differences: A Plexiglas covering surrounding the entire deck, and a series of guns on the sides and the front of the deck.

And some of those guns were aimed at them.

"Inside. Now!" Sly shouted.

Both of them turned and rushed back to the wheelhouse, quickly opening the door and shutting it behind them.

"Murray, time to take evasive action! They're blimps! Five of them, with guns lining the decks! And they're all heading straight for us!" Bentley quickly relayed.

"So what do we do? Run or fight?"

Sly turned and looked out the window. Two blimps were circling around behind them.

"I'd normally say run, but they're already too close. We're gonna have to fight!"

"That's fine with me; just tell me where to go and when to dodge."

"I'll take care of that." Bentley replied. "Sly, take the gun."

Sly moved over to the machine gun that was stationed in the wheelhouse, with the glass sealing off the opening so that the guns could still fire outside at a high altitude.

"Alright Murray, take evasive action!"

"Evading!"

As Murray skillfully maneuvered the blimp, Sly pulled the trigger of the machine gun and fired round after round at the attacking blimps. One raced from his right to the left. He swiveled the gun around to get a decent shot. He managed to hit the Plexiglass shielding several times, but he couldn't break it. A blimp was coming straight at them. It fired from the gun stationed at the very front, but to Sly's surprise, it wasn't with normal bullets. It was with a. grappling hook. Murray rose suddenly, and the hook fell underneath. The hook then slowly retracted back into the gun. By the long chain it was attached to.

"Grappling hooks? They're not trying to destroy us. They're trying to capture us!"

"So at least we know now that we're not going to be blown to bits at 5,000 feet." Bentley said.

"But where are they trying to take us?"

Another hook flew through the air, and barely missed.

Sly fired at the blimp, and clipped the bottom of it.

Blimp 132 fired its hook, and scored a successful hit.

The hook wrapped around the front left support beam of the Cooper Gang's blimp.

"Yes! I've got him! All pilots, move in now while they're vulnerable!" The blimp's captain said into the communicator.

"They've got us! We don't have much time before the other blimps fire _their_ grappling hooks." Bentley worried aloud.

"Hang on." Sly said. "I think I can get him from here." Sly fired mercilessly at the blimp that had captured them. He fired 13 rounds into the cockpit, and emptied 35 into the engine. The cockpit exploded, and the engine burst into flames. The canvas was rapidly engulfed by the fire before the entire blimp exploded, sending debris flying in all directions. The grappling hook didn't become detached from their blimp, but the destruction of its own blimp severed the chain, which hung limply from the still-attached hook.

"Great shot, Sly! We're free to go. Murray, maneuver quick! The others are coming!"

"Roger!"

They flew away from their previous position, and without a second to lose, for three grappling hooks whizzed through the air where their blimp was a few seconds earlier.

They swung around again to attack position. Sly aimed the gun, and blimp 13 lined up in the crosshairs. Sly started to pull the trigger.

Suddenly, another grappling hook flew through the air and caught on the left railing of their blimp. The gang's blimp jerked as it was pulled by the attacking blimp. Sly tried to aim at the blimp that caught them, but the gun wouldn't turn any further, and the blimp was just out of reach. Then another grappling hook latched onto the front right support beam of their blimp. Sly moved to fire at that one when another hook wrapped around their right railing. Three of the four blimps were already hooked onto theirs.

Sly sighed. "It's no use. They've got us tied up good."

"And besides, that fourth one's got its real guns trained on us. If we try to fight, then they'll surely shoot us down." Bentley commented. Murray and Sly looked out the window and saw that what their friend said was true.

"Then we have to give up."

The three blimps started winding up their hooks, pulling them closer to the enemy blimp until they were pressed up against it. The three blimps then moved slowly through the air, working together to gain speed and altitude, with the fourth one following close behind. Murray shut down the engines, as he knew that the engines would be of no use now.

Sly glanced out the window at the nearest blimp, and caught a glimpse of a few guards out on the deck, protected by the Plexiglas shield as they pointed at the newly-captured blimp.

"Who the hell are these guys?" Sly wondered aloud.

"And more importantly: Where are they taking us?" Bentley added.

They moved higher up until they were in the cloud cover. For a few long moments, the whiteness completely obstructed their vision, even blurring their view of the nearest enemy blimp.

Then they finally broke the cloud cover. Soon, their attention was drawn out the window to a massive object in the sky, which the four blimps were taking them to.

What followed next was a reaction from all three men of shock and horror, which words could never adequately express. The sheer size of the object was one thing, but what struck them most and rendered them completely silent, jaws dropped and eyes wide, was how familiar this object was. Almost instantly, they recognized the design, from the head, to the long, metal-plated legs…and those horrible yellow eyes.

"It…It can't be." Murray stammered.

"It's impossible. It's just…impossible!" Bentley added.

"The Death Ray." Sly muttered.

"But…but how?" Bentley asked. "How could they have built another one? Especially one that big? And one that can fly? And…_and how did this not appear on our radar?!_"

Bentley finally pulled himself away from the window and wheeled over to the radar screen. Though the blips representing each of the enemy blimps continued to sound off, there was absolutely no indication of the presence of the massive machine they were heading towards.

"There's _still_ nothing! How can something this massive not appear on our radar at all?!"

But there was no answer. The other two occupants continued to stare mutely at the massive object that drew closer and closer. And as it drew closer, the prisoners knew now that it must have been at least a half a mile high.

As Sly, Bentley, Murray, and their blimp were pulled closer to the Death Ray, now traveling up the length of the left leg towards the shoulder, Sly could only say one more thing.

"Bentley…I hope you have a plan."

As Bentley stared at the technological marvel before them, he replied after a gulp.

"I…I think I have one, but it has an approximately…64.5% chance of working. But that's better than nothing, right? Right?"

"Then it had better be one pretty darn good plan, Bentley." Murray replied weakly. " 'Cause we're about to head into the lion's den."

"Alright. I'll get the devices out of my bag."

Then the five aircraft were level with a massive set of double doors on the very top of the left shoulder, leading into _L_. Hangar No. 10. The doors slowly opened, and the four enemy blimps entered, carrying their prize in with them.

…

Belyeau marched silently but quickly through the dark halls of the Death Ray. After he received the news from Arnold Johansen that the blimp had been captured, Belyeau had already been on his way towards the elevator, and as he walked towards the left shoulder, Johansen had to walk fast to keep up with Belyeau's swift pace.

Belyeau, with his five gold stars jangling on his shirt as he marched quickly, moved towards the hangar that contained the captured blimp. He knew it couldn't have been one of their own, since the technicians said that it lacked the Plexiglas covering, and because none of their blimps had gone out. But the blimp was very similar in design, and once Johansen had confirmed the call sign, Belyeau knew it was Cooper. In his extensive study of their arch-nemesis and his two friends, he had recalled one of the major chapters in their recent criminal career. In 1992, when they finally destroyed Clockwerk in a terrible battle over Paris. It had taken place aboard Arpeggio's massive blimp, which was the centerpiece of his fleet of blimps. In the chaos following the battle and the salvage efforts of the wreckage immediately afterward, they had only found the wreckage of two other blimps – the massive HQ blimp and one other blimp. The third one had gone missing.

But now they had found it.

When he arrived at the hangar, he moved swiftly through the crowd of guards that surrounded the captured blimp. Johansen followed behind. When they reached the blimp, two personnel, a moose guard, and a blimp captain (the captain of crew 13, to be exact), Captain James Emilio, emerged from the blimp's engine room. The monkey approached Belyeau and, with obvious nervousness in his voice and mannerisms, delivered the shocking report.

"Sir, there's no one aboard. We've searched up and down, the cockpit _and_ the engine room, sir."

"What do you mean there's no one aboard? There has to be someone aboard!"

Whether his wince was from the long scar on the left side of his face (which triggered regular involuntary twitches) or from his fear, Belyeau could care less.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir. But we searched thoroughly. All we found were a few bags containing various belongings."

As Emilio said this, three men marched out of the captive blimp, each with a bag in hand.

"If there are belongings here, then _they_ were here. I want you to search this blimp again as thoroughly as possible. I _know_ they're here. And even if you don't find anyone, or anything, I want your men to guard this thing as close as they can."

"Yes, sir."

"And Johansen, get in touch with the men in the Surveillance Room. Tell them to keep a very close eye on the cameras surrounding this hangar."

"Yes, sir." Johansen replied.

Belyeau turned and started to leave, with Johansen behind him.

"Um, sir?" Emilio called after him.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Belyeau didn't even slightly turn his head back to the monkey.

"Yes, Captain?"

"What of crew 132?"

"What about them?"

"We lost them, sir. All of them, and their blimp with them. They were our first casualties since the launch, and the first casualties out of the entire blimp army. Shouldn't we have a…memorial service for them?"

"A memorial service?"

"Yes, sir."

"A memorial service for five men."

"Yes, sir."

"Emilio…tell me."

Belyeau slowly turned around and approached the monkey, who was quick to regret his request.

"Have you ever been in combat?"

"No, sir."

"Ever served in an infantry?"

"No, sir."

"Ever seen one of your comrades torn to pieces by machine gun fire?"

"No, sir."

"Launched 40 feet into the air and coming back down as a burnt crisp after stepping on a land mine?"

"No, sir."

Other personnel were beginning to stare, and Johansen had taken a step back.

"I'm not sure of you're aware of this, but war has casualties."

"Yes, sir."

"Once we begin to take out larger cities and attack the more powerful nations, we will face stiff opposition. There will be even more battles, there will be even more destruction…and there will be even more casualties. Do you understand?"

Emilio gulped nervously. "Yes, sir." He repeated.

"Perhaps once our entire journey is over, and we have achieved our goal, and when we start writing our own history books, then we can add in a little mention of the five men of blimp crew 132, who were the only ones stupid enough to be lost in the battle to capture one of our most dangerous enemies. But for now…we act as if nothing has changed. Because nothing has."

And with that, Belyeau and Johansen left the hangar, leaving a nervous and sweating Emilio behind with a group of about three dozen men surrounding the captured blimp.

Of course, the guards wouldn't find anything. And yet the ones they were searching for were right under their noses, and _would_ be in plain sight, if it weren't for the fact that they were invisible.

"Great plan, Bentley." Murray whispered.

"Thanks, pal. Now keep quiet, hold onto each others' shoulders, and let's move. And whatever you do; don't bump into a guard."

The three of them started out of the blimp. They stepped off the blimp and onto the cold, metal floor of the hangar. They had to move quickly to the side to avoid a group of guards that entered the blimp to search again. Sly turned and saw a tall raccoon and a squirrel disappear into the crowd. The crowd began to disperse. Pretty soon, the hangar was empty except for thirteen guards that surrounded their blimp, and a few other lingering guards.

The three invisible men moved through the hangar until they reached the door. The door was covered with security locks and surveillance equipment. They knew that they could never break through, so they had to wait for a guard to happen by and open the door after typing in the security code so that they could follow through. They then walked further on and found an elevator, with the guard that unknowingly opened the door for them going in. As quickly, but also as silently, as they could, they entered the elevator. They made sure to hug the wall opposite the guard, so that he might not brush against them and eventually find out that they were there. He got out at the bottom of the left shoulder. The stowaways stayed in the elevator. In each elevator there was a map of that section of the Death Ray that the elevator was in. In this case, it was the entire left shoulder.

"Well, this won't help us." Sly's voice whispered.

"We're gonna have to find another map, one that'll show us an overall layout of the whole thing. Let's go."

They got out of the elevator and walked down a staircase into Level 246 of the left leg. Here they found three elevators. They pressed the button, and the one on the right was the first one to open. Two engineers, both stained with oil, walked out. Once the three were in, they looked at the map, which depicted the entire left leg and the chambers connected between it and the other leg. They scanned the multiple levels and markings, hoping to find something of use.

Then Bentley found something.

"Aha! Look at level 124!"

When Murray and Sly peered closer at the level Bentley named, they saw that it was marked "Surveillance Room."

"Surveillance Room? You think that we'll be safe in there?" Sly asked quietly.

"I would think so. I mean, it's the surveillance room. Obviously the central hub for all of those cameras. But the surveillance room itself is the last place they'd think to put cameras. Right now, it's our best bet."

"Good thinking, Bentley." Sly complimented. "Let's go."

Rather than standard rows of buttons commonly seen in most elevators, these elevators had a much more different setup, due to the enormous amount of levels in the leg. It was a keypad, from 0 to 9. Sly pressed the three digits: 1 – 2 – 4, and then the green "Enter" button. He pressed them all very lightly, so that when it began its descent, it wouldn't raise much suspicion. Chances were already slim that anyone in the surveillance room was watching the camera for that elevator at that moment. When it reached Level 124, they got out, and, following Bentley's photographic memory of the map, walked to the door that led to the hallway of the surveillance room. They had to wait for a good half hour before a guard finally opened the door to the surveillance room. They followed the guard closely, and when they entered the surveillance room, the three invisible friends were stunned by the amount of small monitors in the room. Literally, all screens were pressed up tightly against each other, lining both walls from one side of the room to the other, nearly from floor to ceiling as well. It was just barely enough to fit them all in, but there had to be at least a thousand. But a quick glance around the room confirmed Bentley's suspicion; there were no cameras in the room itself.

Sitting in a chair at the center of the room, facing just a fraction of all the monitors, was another guard in addition to the one who had let them in. He sat before a single box-like device that protruded from the wall, which a voice spoke to him over.

"…all cameras in the left shoulder, particularly _L._ hangar 10. But if you see anything else suspicious, report it immediately. Over."

"Roger that, sir. Will do. Over and out." The guard replied as he held down the button. He then released it and flipped the box-like communicator back into its hole in the wall, allowing him to look at several more monitors.

Sly sneaked up behind the sitting guard and raised his invisible cane high into the air with one hand, then brought it down on the guard's head, knocking him out with a _crack_. The other guard, the one who had let them in, turned to see what had happened, and he was struck in the face with Sly's cane a moment later. Before the unconscious guard even hit the ground, Sly finally returned to visibility.

"Oh, thank goodness. I don't think I could've held it much longer."

A few seconds later, Bentley and Murray returned to visibility as well.

"Yeah." Bentley agreed. "I really wish I had a cloaking device for you, too…"

He held up his left wrist, displaying the small, metallic object that was secured to his wrist by a metal bracelet, a single green light blinking on top of it.

"…But Penelope and I only got around to making one for each of us at the time we developed these. Maybe in the future I can make another one."

"No, it's fine. You and Murray have more use for those things. I'm the only one here who doesn't need technological assistance in order to turn invisible."

"Alright. So for now, we're safe. But with that being said…ahem…WHERE THE HECK ARE WE?!" Bentley screamed in frustration and confusion.


	8. Capture: Part II

Capture Part II

"…WHERE THE HECK ARE WE?!"

Bentley's outburst, though briefly stunning, brought them back to the reality of their situation. The questions were just as pressing as the danger.

"OK, OK, OK…So what do we know?" Sly asked. "We know that these guys – who obviously have something to do with ORNWOR – have built a second Death Ray."

"How do we know they have anything to do with that organization?" Bentley asked.

"I recognize their uniforms. They're all exactly the same. Same color, same design…and besides, it all makes perfect sense. They built a Second Clockwerk, so why not a second Death Ray?"

"So it looks like these guys are far from being done for. They were down for over two years, but it looks like they're back with a back-up plan."

"If _this_ is their back-up, then I'd gladly take on the Second Clockwerk again any day."

"I just can't believe that they've actually built something of this magnitude that can fly! Did you see this thing from the outside?! It's got to be at least half a mile high…_at least_! And yet it's just as easily suspended in mid-air and moving at just as casual a pace as our blimp was. This is ridiculous! This is unprecedented! This is…ugh…I'd say impossible, but clearly…"

He held his arms out and gestured to the multiple screens around them, which showed practically every single location aboard the Death Ray.

"…it's here. It exists. So it's not impossible."

"OK, so what do we do now? I would say that our first and most important thing would be to figure out a way to escape." Murray interjected.

"But we can't just leave…" Sly replied.

"Why not?" Bentley asked. "I just want to get as far away from this thing as I possibly can!"

"Agreed!"

"But hold on…Think about it, guys: We now know what these goons have been up to since we destroyed the Second Clockwerk. This is their next big move. And as of now…We're the only people in the entire world outside of their organization who know about this thing. Just like with their Volcano base and the Second Clockwerk. We found out about that in a very short amount of time and were rushed to find a way to destroy it…but we didn't back down. We took it upon ourselves to put a stop to their schemes once and for all. And we thought we did…But now we have to do it again."

"OK, so you want to destroy this thing. Fair enough, but how are we gonna do that?"

"You're the one who comes up with the plans, Bentley. You're gonna figure out how to destroy this thing."

"Me? But…But I know nothing about this thing! Its design, its mechanisms, its firepower…And just like with the Second Clockwerk, the original is already long gone, so we can't study the layout of the original for technical and structural reference. I need a layout of this whole thing, I need to know how it works, what makes it tick, what makes it tock…I have to know more information!"

When Bentley was finally done, Sly interjected once again. "Bentley, I know that. I know you need to do a little study in order to think of our potential plans of attack. But that's exactly what I was getting to next. We have to find blueprints, or schematics, or something of that regard, depicting the Death Ray's design and functions. So we can't just book it. We have to stay here long enough to find something, anything, containing crucial information about this thing."

"OK, OK…sounds good…but in case you didn't notice the first time…THIS THING IS HUGE! How are we gonna be able to find anything like that anytime soon, and without being caught?"

"Guys?" Murray called. However, the tension was so high between Sly and Bentley that neither heard him.

"Well, in response to that last part, you two do have the cloaking devices. And like you said, those have a much longer lifespan than my own personal ability."

"Well, yes. These batteries should last for about…eight more hours. But what about my first question? We have to know where we can find some diagrams of this thing! We can't just go searching for them and hope to find one."

"Guys?" Murray called again, to deaf ears.

"Bentley…take a good look at where we are right now. We're in the Surveillance Room. I think we can see the whole thing, inside and out, from here."

"But looking at every single screen will take too much time! And what about other guards? Another shift? It's a miracle no more have come in here since we first entered! Sure we can just go invisible again, but when they find these guys unconscious…"

"They already know we're here, Bentley. They just don't know where yet."

"But when they _do_ know where, we're backed up against the wall even more!"

"GUYS!" Murray shouted.

Both of them finally stopped their argument and turned to face their friend, further across the room and gesturing at something on the wall besides a screen.

"Look, we all just need to take a deep breath, calm down…and use this map right here to look for places where we could find those blueprints."

"…Oh. Um, good thinking, Murray." Bentley replied weakly.

"Don't mention it."

Sly and Bentley came over to the map, which depicted the entire Death Ray, from left to right and top to bottom.

"OK, so we're here…" Bentley gestured at level 124. "And it appears that most of the other chambers attached to the legs like this one are just crew quarters. I don't think we'd find anything of significance there. The legs are lined with gunner stations, situated in either break rooms or armories. Again, nothing to be found there…"

While Sly and Bentley were talking, Murray instantly took it upon himself to "investigate" the nearby weapons rack.

"Ho-ho, man! Look at this! AK-47, M-79, 12-gauge, .357, .44, Luger, Ruger, Winchester, Henry, Uzi! These guys have_ everything_!"

"I wouldn't be surprised. It's the ideal defense."

"I didn't know that you were familiar with so many models of guns, Murray." Sly mused.

"Like I said, I've been interested in guns for a long time. Why else would I subscribe for _Firearms Digest_, _Guns Guns Galore_, and _American Ammo_ daily? I know almost everything there is to know about the art of ammunition, the fascination of firearms, the power of powder…"

"OK, OK, I get it, pal. I believe you. But we can't carry all of them. And I'm still not too fond of guns except for my former service piece."

"Oh, I'm sure you can take one more. Like here! Try this!"

Murray tossed a 12-gauge automatic shotgun to Sly, who was caught off-guard, but managed to catch it anyway.

"Whoa! Geez, this thing is heavy! We can't all be as strong as you, Murray. Besides, while I appreciate the suggestion, I'm really only comfortable with my service piece here." Sly patted the gun clipped to his belt. "Just see if you can find any magazines that match this particular model."

"The shoulders contain hangars for all their blimps, but I don't think we'd find any blueprints there…unless we searched each of the hangars' control rooms…" Bentley continued aloud.

"Fine, fine…" Murray agreed, now combing the rack for any available matching magazines. "Alright, how many can you take at once?"

"Well, in addition to the clip that's already loaded…" Sly checked his pockets, backpack, and leg pouch. "…I've got room for about sixteen. I can hold ten in my backpack, and my pockets and leg pouch can each hold two."

"Fine. Here are the clips." Murray started tossing the clips from the rack to Sly, one at a time. Sly stuffed them rapidly into his pockets and other holding places. Once he had all sixteen, he sealed both pockets and the leg pouch and shouldered his backpack once again.

"I'll let you know right now though, Murray; I'm not the biggest fan of using guns. Now that I have the choice, I'd prefer to use my Cane as much as possible."

"Look, I know you don't like guns. But what else can you do? These guys are armed to the teeth. Weapon racks everywhere! Your cane is strong, but it can't save you from bullets. Sometimes you've got to fight fire with fire."

"He's right, you know." Bentley said.

"Well of course you'd say that; you don't have to carry a gun." Sly retorted.

"I couldn't even if I wanted to."

"Fine. So what are you taking, Murray?"

"Well, I'll need to take only what I can carry. Which, ordinarily, isn't much. But…"

"But what?"

"I think I've just found something that could help out!" Murray reached farther into the massive wooden rack, and slowly pulled out a pair of long, thin straps with large, bulky holsters on them here and there.

"What's that?"

"Didn't you see that one guard in the hangar? The one who opened the door for us? He had some of these attached to him. They're special straps that can go over your shoulders and attach to your belt, from front and behind!"

As he described it, he attached it as mentioned. When fully attached, two of the holsters were in front of him, one above the other, and two were behind him in the same fashion.

"These holsters can hold a pistol of any size. They can be adjusted by the long Velcro strip on one side that can attach to the adjoining Velcro on the other side. Kind of like the adjusting strip on a baseball cap. It can hold the smallest of wimpy handguns, or…"

Murray then grabbed a large, bulky, silver revolver with a black handle and a long, thick barrel.

"…Big boys like this .357 Magnum!" He flicked open the cylinder. "Fully loaded." He flicked it back and placed it in one of the holsters.

"And these…" He gestured to many small pouches lining the straps. "…are for holding multiple bullets and magazines." He grabbed a Ruger MK II and placed it in one of the other holsters, grabbing several magazines and stuffing them into the pouches directly above and below it. He continued grabbing more magazines for the Ruger and individual bullets for the revolving Magnum, making sure that no pouch was empty when he was done stocking up. He even grabbed a third handgun, a Desert Eagle Mark XIX, and his eyes lit up.

"Oh, yeah! This will complete the set. These things can take the same kind of bullets as the Magnum!" He reached behind him and stuffed it into one of the pouches on his back.

"But you can't rely entirely on pistols, right?" Sly asked.

"Well, duh! You have to have some of the major league toys…like this!"

Murray grabbed a fair-sized weapon that appeared to be a shotgun, with a single, wide barrel.

"Perfect! You know what this is?"

"A…sawed-off shotgun?"

"No! This is far more powerful, actually. It's an M-79 grenade launcher. It works like a shotgun, since you load the grenade in here…"

He gave it a flick, and the barrel snapped open at the base, just above the trigger.

"…shut it, and fire. They deliver one heck of a payload, let me tell ya."

"What kind of grenades do they fire?"

"Uh…these!"

Murray grabbed a long, flat strap lined with multiple rings. Each ring held one of the grenades he mentioned. Large, thick, brass tubes that barely fit in the barrel of the gun. Each one looked as deadly as he said they were.

"Hmm…this has 25 of them on it. And here's another one!"

He pulled out a matching one, a look of excitement on his face.

"Nice! Fifty of these babies are perfect!" He then started attaching the straps to his body, slanted across his body, crisscrossing between the holsters on his shoulder straps and directly over each other right in the middle of his chest.

"Think you're enough of a Terminator now, pal?" Sly asked, unable to resist a brief chuckle.

"Heck, yeah! I'm ready to get back out there and kick some major butt!"

"Not so fast, big guy." Sly turned back to Bentley. "So have you found anything yet?"

"Well, from what I can see on this map, I've narrowed it down to 22 possibilities."

"Twenty-two?" Murray repeated.

"I know it sounds like a lot, but they're our best shots. There are 10 hangars in each shoulder, so 20 hangars in total. Each hangar has a control room mounted on the wall opposite the hangar doors, like the ones we were brought in through. I think those could possibly contain some schematics. But the other two locations are at the very bottom of each leg. The lower portions of each leg are all massive engines, presumably for all the propellers and other mechanisms that keep this thing airborne and mobile. Those, to me, are the most likely locations, so we'll start down there first."

"So what's the plan? Do we all head down there?" Murray asked.

"Actually, although it sounds a bit riskier, I think it's best if one of us stayed here. I mean, like I said, it's the Surveillance Room. The one place where we can see everything onboard this thing. One of us can use this to track your guys' progress and warn you of any nearby guards or other dangers." Sly explained.

"OK, so who stays?"

"Well, seeing as how I'm the only one incapable of carrying any major weapons, I think we should divide the firepower we have equally between the two groups. After all, if I were to stay here by myself, and several guards were to enter, I wouldn't be able to fend them off as efficiently as one of you guys could." Bentley summarized.

"Alright, so you'll head out for sure." Sly confirmed. "So one of us stays here. Murray, seeing as how you're obviously more able – and more willing – to carry an entire arsenal on you, I think you'd be better at providing protection for Bentley while he searches for blueprints. So I'll stay here and keep a close eye on you guys and anything else in your area. We'll keep in contact with our communicators."

"Sounds good." Bentley agreed, a hint of relief and confidence finally detectable in his voice.

"Alright, guys. No more messing around. From this moment on, every second counts, every move is the difference between life and death, and everything we do could possibly determine whether or not we make it out of here alive and with the information we need."

"I couldn't agree more." Bentley replied.

"Don't worry, Sly. We won't screw this up. And any guard who tries to stop us…we'll screw _him_ up!"

"I know it'll be tough for you Murray, but please just try to remain stealthy with this, OK? As much as you'd like to fight, we must use every moment in which we're undetected to our advantage. Got it?"

After a brief hesitation, Murray sighed. "Got it."

"Now head out there, guys. I'll keep watch over the cameras."

And with that, Bentley and Murray headed back down the room to the corridor they had entered through. Once they were next to it, Bentley raised his wrist up to activate the cloaking device.

"Alright, Murray. Time to become the invisible men."

"Right!"

They both switched on the devices on their left wrists, and with a quick blur of light and distortion of colors, they both vanished from sight.

Soon, the door opened up, as there was no code necessary to open it from the inside, and the two invisible forms quickly moved back out into the leg. The door slowly closed behind them, leaving Sly alone with the hundreds of computer monitors.

It took some doing, but he eventually managed to find the camera he was looking for. Each video feed had a title in green letters on the bottom of the screen, one in each of the two corners. On the bottom left corner was the level number that the camera was on, followed by either an "L," for the left leg, or "R," for the right leg, and on the bottom right was the camera number.

Over his earpiece, Bentley's voice whispered, "Alright, we're in one of the stairwells, descending to level 123. Keep watching the next few levels."

Sly found the set of cameras on level 123, left leg, and saw two guards walking towards one of the break tables near the gunner station.

"There's two guards on level 123, at the break table across from the stairwell. But other than that, no other activity."

"Got it."

"And on your end, try to keep communication to an absolute minimum. I'm in a closed, empty room, so I don't need to worry about being heard. But the less you guys say, the better." Sly suggested.

"Copy that."

…

Ironically, it was just one level below the intruder's hiding place where two of the Death Ray's highest-ranking officers were discussing the situation. One of them, more aggravated by the recent turn of events rather than intimidated, was pacing back and forth while the other sat in a chair at the conference table.

"It just doesn't make any sense." Slovaki muttered as he turned around for another pacing, the sheath of his saber swinging at his waist. "Why would they send a decoy blimp right up to us with no one inside?"

"It couldn't have possibly been just a decoy, Major." General Yates replied. "That blimp is the exact same one that was missing from the wreckage of Arpeggio's blimp 15 years ago. And since we destroyed their van over two years ago, it would seem that they have no other major, private mode of transportation."

"But then explain to me why there was no one inside? We kept a close eye on it from the moment it was set down on the hangar floor. No one left at all. No one!"

"There has to be more to it than that…" Yates started.

"The bottom line is that, whether it was just a decoy or something more, they know about us. They know we're here, they know we're still a fully-functioning organization, and they know about the Omega Project!"

"I understand your concern over a potential infiltration, Major. But perhaps Carr is starting to get to you. You're almost as high-strung as he is."

Slovaki finally stopped pacing the room, only to spin sharply on his heels and rush up to the General, standing right next to his chair and leaning over him, causing him to back up against his own chair.

"Listen to me, you miserable wretch. Don't you ever…EVER…compare me to that pathetic worm ever again. Carr may outrank me, he may be able to tell me what to do, but I will never respect him. I will never agree with him. And I will never, EVER, be as 'high-strung' as him. He probably still believes in bad luck caused by spilling salt or walking under ladders."

Slovaki straightened up and took a few steps back from the General, who slowly straightened up in his seat, apparently unfazed.

Slovaki straightened out his jacket. "I am simply concerned over an unusual phenomena which I believe presents a danger to our operation and to my command."

"Well, it's not like we can do any more. Belyeau has them searching up and down that blimp a dozen times over and has told the Surveillance Room crew to keep a sharp lookout for anything suspicious."

"Hmph. Those two men watching over 8,000 monitors? It's absurd."

"Well then, if you think they're doing such a terrible job, why don't you head up there and help them out yourself?"

There was obvious annoyance and sarcasm in Yates's voice, but Slovaki was already tense enough and felt that, first and foremost, he needed to get out of this room and away from Yates, who was clearly not afraid to challenge him.

"You know what? I've got nothing better to do anyway, I suppose I can check to see if those buffoons aren't sleeping on the job."

And with that, the goat left the conference room, leaving the tiger sitting alone at the empty table in the empty room.

There were very few things to complain about with this job, but if there was one thing that made Yates want to return to his days in Monaco, it was that goat.

…

"Any response from the Surveillance crew yet?" Belyeau asked.

"No, sir." Johansen replied. "Not since your last set of instructions. And no sightings of them from any other personnel."

"I just don't understand. They have to be here…they couldn't have just disappeared and left a blimp here like that…"

Belyeau put a hand on his chin, thinking hard over what he had just said, and trying to think of any possible way that it could have indeed happened like that.

"Just disappeared…disappeared…"

Then, in a moment of realization, it hit him.

"Of course."

"Sir?"

Belyeau rushed over to the radio and contacted the Surveillance Room.

"Commander to Surveillance Room, disregard previous orders to keep a close eye out. You won't be able to find them. They can't be seen. Repeat: They cannot be seen. Do you read me?"

Although what he had just said was indeed rather confusing, he still expected an immediate response. When over three seconds passed and there was no reply, he spoke again.

"Commander to Surveillance Room, do you read me? Do you read?"

Still no reply.

His eyes widened as it all finally fell into place and made perfect sense.

"They're in the Surveillance Room."

…

"OK, so there's nothing on level 120 at all. You're both clear."

"Thanks."

Only four levels down, and 120 to go. Sly sighed. This was going to take a while.

Just then, he heard a beeping off to the left. Jerking his head up and spinning to face the direction of the sound, he saw that the door was opening.

Sly instantly used his Shadow Power technique, turning invisible just as a single form stepped through the door before it closed behind him.

"Alright, you two! I had to check on your progress to make sure you're both doing your jobs. This is a delicate situation, and we don't want two lackeys-."

The short goat finally came around the corner and exited the corridor, entering the area where all the monitors were. To his stupor and surprise, the room was empty.

The brief shock was replaced by anger.

"ARGH! Alright, where are you fools?! Taking a break on the job?! Without MY permission?! I'll skin you both alive!"

Sly, leaning against one of the walls, Cane in hand, decided it would be better to just take this man out his own way rather than adhere to Murray's suggestion. He slowly sneaked up behind the goat and raised his Cane just as the goat turned another corner to face the weapon rack. It was there that he finally saw the two unconscious bodies, which had been dragged away from the monitors, lying against the wall by the weapon rack.

"What the…?!"

Then, at that moment, aware that something was indeed very wrong and that it was not just the guards' laziness, Slovaki became instantly aware of his surroundings. And in a split second's notice, he could instinctively feel a presence behind him. Even though he couldn't see it, he could detect it almost with a sixth sense.

In one quick movement, Slovaki ducked just as he felt something whoosh through the air where his head had been a moment earlier. While he was still spinning on his heels, he grabbed the handle of his saber and drew it from its sheath, slicing it through the air where he thought the presence was.

Sly was so taken aback by the goat's reaction and attack, and only had time to jump back slightly before the tip of the blade sliced his stomach, ripping through the blue shirt and creating a long, straight cut that barely penetrated his skin and drew blood.

But the damage was done. The impact itself and the pain it caused forced Sly to lose his focus on being invisible, thus exposing himself at last to the goat.

When he regained his senses, the goat saw that, sure enough, the raccoon had appeared out of thin air. But at this point, he couldn't care less about how he did it, than the fact that he was now here, in front of him, in a confrontation.

"Ah, Sly Cooper!" The Major exclaimed. "So you have indeed joined us? Welcome aboard!"

The Major then maintained a firm grip on the handle with both hands, and swung out at Sly once more. This time, Sly blocked the hit with his own Cane, grappling with the Major's blade before shoving him back with all his might. The Major stumbled backwards, but regained his balance.

As the Major charged forward, clashing his blade against Sly's Cane once more, a voice crackled over the radio in the nearby wall.

"Commander to Surveillance Room, disregard previous orders to keep a close eye out. You won't be able to find them. They can't be seen. Repeat: They cannot be seen. Do you read me?"

Sly, hearing this, realized with horror that their secret was out. But even worse than that, the lack of a response to the communication would only alert the Commander that something was wrong in this room.

"Commander to Surveillance Room, do you read me? Do you read?"

The goat was glancing in the direction of the radio as well. He grinned and glanced back at his opponent.

"Looks like you've been found out, Cooper. Unfortunately, you won't be alive by the time they arrive."

The goat then retracted his blade and thrust it forward, forcing Sly to dodge to the side as it narrowly slid under his arm. He responded with an angled strike with his Cane, clipping the Major's cheek and sending him reeling backwards. Sly charged forward with his Cane behind him for another blow, but the goat ducked under it and charged forward, ramming his head into Sly's chest and sending the raccoon sprawling backwards onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

Then, a loud and booming voice sounded over the intercom, reaching every single location onboard.

"Attention, all personnel! Attention, all personnel! This is Commander Robert Belyeau. The intruders are, in fact, aboard, and are in the Surveillance Room. Repeat: The intruders are in the Surveillance Room. All personnel on level 124 and the floors nearest 124 are to head down there immediately and take the intruders alive. Repeat: The intruders are to be taken alive."

"Oh, drat. He wants you taken alive. Well, I can simply tell him that I fought you in self-defense, fearing for my own life, and simply killed you before the announcement came over the intercom. Soon, the history books will tell how I – the great Major Molotov Slovaki – took down the infamous Sly Cooper!"

Then, with a battle cry, Slovaki leapt into the air, prepared to bring his blade right down on Sly's chest. Sly, however, recovered from the stun of the blow and rolled out of the way just before the blade clattered against the metal, with the Major landing next to it.

Sly rolled over and leapt back to his feet, the wall a few feet behind him. The goat also got to his feet and charged at Sly again.

"You will not defeat me, Sly Cooper! This is my time in the spotlight! This is my moment of glory! You may not know me, but soon, the whole world will!"

As they struggled with the two weapons pressed against each other, Sly backed up even closer to the wall, and saw a series of thin metal pipes running vertically up the wall.

Sly shoved his Cane upward, sending the Major's sword up with it. However, the Major quickly responded by swinging his sword straight at Sly's neck. Sly ducked just in time, and the blade slashed through all three pipes, severing them and revealing the numerous wires within, most of which were also severed. Sparks flew from the cables and showered down onto the metal floor around them. The lights lining the ceiling began flickering on and off, and thousands of the screens began malfunctioning. Some turned instantly to static, some went completely black, and others began exploding in bursts of sparks and shards of glass as all electricity in the room was cut off, and everything began short-circuiting.

…

"Sir!" One of the control room technicians called out. "There's been some sort of electrical malfunction in the Surveillance Room."

Johansen and Belyeau both came over, leaning over the screen that the man was leaning over.

"The electrical circuits have all been severed. Simultaneously, sir. Everything in there is going haywire."

"There's a struggle going on down there. Looks like our men have just had the misfortune of meeting Sly Cooper." The Commander mused.

…

The Major thrust his blade forward again, and Sly managed to catch it with the hook of his Cane, but the tip managed to penetrate through so that it was now inches from his face. He was forced to also grab onto the blade with his own hands, squeezing as tight as he could even though he could feel the blade slice through his gloves and cut his palms. The extremely sharp and small point drew a bit closer to his eye.

"Ah! You have nowhere left to run, Cooper! No more tricks up your sleeve! No more of your family's 'famous thief moves' to save you now!"

As Sly backed away from the tip of the sword, he could hear the bursting of sparks from the severed electrical cords behind him. He turned his head back to glance at them, and saw that they were now right behind him. He then stared back down the metal blade, down to the metal handle that the Major was clutching tightly…

In an instant, Sly jerked his head to the left and out of the way just as he released his grip on the blade. The blade shot forward with all of the Major's strength behind it, but instead of spearing through Sly's eye as intended, it instead speared right into the severed wires, connecting with one of them and pinning it to the wall. In that same moment, Sly threw himself to the side to avoid the electrical charge that he knew was coming.

The thousands of volts of electricity instantly channeled from the ruined wire straight through the metal blade, the metal handle, and into the Major's body through his hands. The blue bolts electricity sparked and shot up from all up and down the blade, and even emitting from the goat's body as it shocked him completely, charred his clothing, and singed his fur. It took a few more seconds before he finally began screaming, a gargled and choking scream that was occasionally interrupted by another painful burst of electricity that further destroyed his body. Foam started seeping out from the edge of his mouth, and his skin and fur rapidly became a crispy black, with his entire form gradually become less and less recognizable as the electricity took its toll.

Then, with a final scream, and one final, powerful burst of electricity, the goat's body was sent flying backwards, slamming against the opposite wall before slowly sliding down to the metal floor. His saber, which was also charred and rusted, clattered to the floor near his lifeless, charred, slumped form, with smoke still rising from it.

Sly, still on the floor nearby, slowly crawled to his feet just as the beeping sounded over the door once more.

Thinking fast, he rendered himself invisible once more just as the door opened, allowing at least a dozen guards to pour into the room, guns at the ready.

The first one to enter almost instantly took note of the charred body and the sword near it.

"Over here! We've got a body!"

Another, older guard approached, stooping down to inspect it.

"It's charred to a crisp. I can't immediately identify it…"

He glanced over at the sword.

"…But that saber. This…" He picked it up. "This was Major Slovaki's!"

They all gathered around, staring at the charred remains of one of their officers. "And look! Three gold stars on his shirt! This was the Major himself!"

"Alright, seal both exits! No one else gets in or out! Search everywhere!"

The invisible Sly backed up against a set of monitors, watching as the guards spread out and began combing the entire room. He slowly inched along the wall, hoping to make it to the door and make a quick escape. He slid along until he reached the corner, near where the wires were severed. At that moment, the ceiling lights finally went out, plunging the entire room into darkness for a few moments. Sly seized his opportunity and dashed around the corner, unaware in the darkness that a guard was right around the corner.

Sly collided with the guard, who only stumbled backward at the impact. Sly was equally stunned and stopped in his tracks.

"Hey!" The guard called out. "Something just ran into me!"

The guard then swung out wildly, wielding his gun as a club. Sly didn't have time to react, and the barrel struck him across the chin. He stumbled backward with an "Oof!" as his invisibility faded again.

At that moment, the back-up generator for the room kicked in, and blue lights lining the ceiling switched on to provide some lighting.

It was timed just perfectly enough to allow the guard to see who had run into him.

"He's over here!" He called out to the other men in the room, who could now see clearly and turned to face the intruder.

"We've got him! Take him alive, take him alive!"

Several guards rushed at Sly, and he spun around to strike at the two nearest men. One jumped back, while the other ducked under the swing and tackled Sly. Sly grunted as he was slammed up against the metal wall, the guard maintaining an iron grip on him. Sly was quick to retaliate with a strike against the guard's back with his Cane. The impact against his spine stunned the guard, who reeled back just as another one ran at Sly from the side, pinning one arm against the wall. Sly swung his Cane out, only for another guard to grab the arm that held the Cane and pin it down as well. The guard grabbed his hand and bent it backward at the wrist, prying away at the fingers until he finally caused Sly to drop it. The guard then promptly kicked it away, and it slid across the floor away from Sly, only for another guard to pick it up.

A third guard charged at Sly from the front, only for Sly to swing out with his left foot and kick him in the knee, causing that leg to buckle out from underneath the guard. As he crumpled to his knees, Sly thrust his own knee up into the guard's face, striking under the chin and knocking his head straight up before the guard collapsed backwards. However, two more guards took note of this attack and were quick to restrain his legs when they moved in. Soon, all four guards had Sly fully restrained against the metal wall, with one of them twisting his arm around backwards so that the pain would subdue Sly further, while another guard yanked his service piece off his belt.

"We've got him!" One of them called to the rest of the men.

"We've got him, sir." Another guard, out of sight around the corner, said to an unknown figure.

Sly glanced to his right as the guard and a uniformed tiger slowly stepped out from around the corner. The guard stepped aside, his gun aimed straight at Sly for insurance of no more tricks as the tiger approached.

He stood before their new prisoner, doing a quick once-over of Sly's entire body and outfit. He instantly recognized the obvious features; the Cane, the hat, the shirt, the belt, the leg pouch, and the backpack.

"Ah, Sly Cooper. The one and only. What a pleasant surprise."

He also took note of the one feature that he was not expecting: The clip on his belt that had previously held his piece.

"Where is the gun you took from him?" Yates asked the men.

"Right here, sir."

The guard who had confiscated it took it out, flipping it around so that the handle was facing the General, then extended it for the tiger to take it.

"Ah, very nice, Cooper. Very nice."

He casually flicked the safety off and pointed the gun right at Sly.

"This particular weapon actually reminds me of one unfortunate fellow who couldn't follow through on his debt when it came time for him to pay me…he actually looked somewhat like you, Cooper, and put up just as much of a fight. You know what happened to that poor fellow?"

Sly's angry, defiant stare was the only response that Yates got.

"I used a gun very similar to this one to paint the wall behind him red."

Several of the guards around them chuckled ominously.

"You know, I'm not exactly bitter about what you did to Major Slovaki over there. I personally couldn't stand the man myself. None of us could. But orders are orders, and they must be followed."

Sly was too terrified to be angry, staring down the barrel of his own gun with four men restraining him, and his life at the mercy of this man he had never met before.

"We've heard a lot about you, you know."

The General slowly raised the gun even closer, pressing the barrel right against Sly's forehead. Time seemed to stop completely for the prisoner.

Then, in one quick movement, Yates tossed the gun up into the air, caught it by the barrel, then raised it and swung it down like a club, the handle slamming against Sly's head with such force that it instantly rendered him unconscious. His body went limp, and the four men instantly released their grips and let the body crumble to the floor.

Flipping the gun back around to take it by the handle, then casually slipping it into one of his own spare holsters, the tiger added, "And we're not taking any chances."


End file.
